You Can Never Go Home Again
by Angelique Daemon
Summary: I thought since Alistair got a dramatic reveal about his lineage, the Aeducan deserved one too... and a glimpse of the personality behind the game-restricted responses.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: **My main character is the dwarf noble, though I've been playing on the good path rather than being snotty or racist. I haven't gone to the Frostback Mountains yet, but since there's a cut scene with Alistair before heading into Redcliffe, I only thought it fair that there should be a moment before getting to the mountains to give the party a bit more backstory on the main character. I don't know if I'll add anythig later, but I'll leave myself the option. This is Alistair's point of view, and... I'm **really **sorry for how bad I am at writing in first person, but I'm trying to force myself to get better at it. Thank you for reading, and reviews are always welcome.

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><p>So close, we were <em>so<em> close to finishing the building of our army. The Frostback Mountains stood in front of us, and from there it was onto Orzammar to get the backing of the dwarves. I looked over to Liftrasa, my mouth open to say something, when I noticed she was no longer beside me. We had been walking near the rear, so none of the others noticed that she had stopped... Well none of the people, Rurik had stopped as well, his ears pricked forward, and his head tilted. Great... the _dog_ was more observant than I. It _did_ soothe my pride a bit that the others had not seemed to notice.

Once more I opened my mouth to say something, to ask what was wrong, despite the risk of alerting our companions, but before I could speak, she looked up at me. Those beautiful eyes, more breath-taking than a thousand of the remarkable gems Shale collect, shimmered with tears, and pinned me to the spot. What could I say to that look? She looked... she looked as though her heart had been torn out and then trod upon in front of her. I closed my mouth... Morrigan had always been quick to say doing so was my smartest decision, and maybe taking the bitch's advice this _once_ was a good idea. The sound of paper crackling drew my attention down, and I saw that she was clutching a piece of paper in a shaking hand. My brows drew together for a second before I remember, the dwarf in Denerim. I hadn't been playing much attention to the conversation, because Leliana had been arguing religion with Morrigan again, and I was curious to see if the crazy was going to strike the psycho, or vice versa. The only thing I really remembered was him calling her Lady Aeducan and giving her a shield... To be honest I had forgotten that once she was a noble lady, but I hadn't given it much thought since becoming a Grey Warden meant cutting all ties. Now though... now I wished I'd paid more attention as I looked into the saddest eyes in Thedas.

She was wearing the shield... she had trained _so_ hard to be able to carry it, I remember, and she had given me _such_ a scandalized look when I had suggested letting Sten use it since she couldn't. The shock had turned to anger, and I'd thought she was going to hit me for it. Not one of my finer moments, I admit, and even Sten himself had been angry at the suggestion. He'd said he could no more wear her shield than she could wield his sword. Have I mentioned that I _hate_ it when he's more in tune with the situation than I am?

_That's _when it struck me... and I felt like a right tit as I remember what Duncan had told me about her. How she had been framed for her older brother's murder by her younger brother, who had then gone on to get her exiled... though it was an exile meant to be an execution. And now here we were, marching right back there. I wracked my brain, trying to think of what to say, when another bolt of brilliance struck me, and I remembered hearing that other dwarf, Gorim I think his name was, say that her father had... oh dear. So not only we were marching, bold as brass back to the place where she had lost her brother, we were also heading back to the place her father had died, and would likely have to deal with her younger brother, if succession worked for them anything like it worked for humans. Well _that_ certainly explained the look, and yet again I tried to say something, though I had no idea what. Luckily, she beat me to it before I could make a fool of myself.

"I loved my brothers," it tore me up to hear her voice so full of pain that it might well have been a Blight all its own, "_Both_ of them!" she clenched her fists harder, and it was only when they _stopped_ shaking that I realized they had been, "I'm not _stupid_, I knew how dwarven politics worked," she laughed and it was a bitter and brittle sound every bit as heart-rending as her speech, "How could I not, with Gorim constantly encouraging me to have Trian killed each time anyone claimed he was plotting against me? I never believed it, _never_! Trian was bossy, and he didn't know how to deal with people, but he was a _good_ and _honorable_ man!" she shook her head vehemently, "Not what passes for 'honor' in Orzammar, but _truly_ honorable, like you," I watched helplessly as a tear slid own her cheek, leaving behind a trail in the dust on her face, "He _never_ would have hurt me, because he loved me, and he knew I loved him, despite our bickering. I thought..." her brows drew together, her expression growing yet _more_ heart-broken, a feat I'd not thought possible, "I thought it was the same for Bhelen..." it came out as barely more than a whisper as yet more tears joined the first one. Damn it.

I've been told, multiple times, that I'm not a smart man, and while I'll freely admit that I _don't_ have all the answers, and I _do_ mess up sometimes, I'm _not_ stupid. I didn't even try to say anything to make her feel better, because I wasn't the one with the gilded tongue, she was. So rather than open my mouth and stick my foot in it, I simply walked over to her and drew her into my arms. She was shaking, so I held her tighter, and after a moment, she finally gave in and wrapped her arms around me, hiding her face in my... abdomen. As stupid as it sounds, sometimes I forgot how tiny she really was. She seemed so in control, and the way she carried herself made her seem larger than life sometimes, so was it easy to forget that all that wisdom, dignity, and sheer goodness came in such a small package. Really, she was only _just_ bigger than a child, hell _Connor_ would be taller than her come next year! It was almost impossible to reconcile the image of the Grey Warden with the reality of the woman in my arms...

My mind returned from its wandering when she spoke again, "I have _nothing_," she whispered into my chainmail, "I _had_ a father and brothers who loved me, and now I don't even _exist_! Bhelen killed my father as surely as he killed Trian, and now I have to walk back into the place where I lost _everything_ and face _him_, hat in hand, to plead with him to help us! I..." she shook her head, an angry sob escaping her. I _still_ didn't know what to do, so I stroked her hair and held her silently, inwardly praying. If the Maker had an _ounce_ of compassion he wouldn't have asked this of her... though even _I_ knew _He_ wasn't actually asking anything of her, no one was... she was doing this out of the goodness of her heart to save people not her own, as well as her very betrayers. That made it seem all the _more_ unfair really, because I didn't even have anyone to rail at, or hold responsible.

I don't know how long we stood like that... I don't even know how long our 'conversation,' for lack of a better word, took. I _did_ know that the others had finally noticed that we weren't with them at some point, and had stopped. It was kind of hard not to notice was the _lack_ of sound when Shale stopped moving. Speaking of sounds, someone coughed softly. It was probably Wynne, since it was a discreet, polite cough rather than some heartless bitchy comment, or vulgar innuendo. Liftrasa heard it too, and she quickly released me, moving her hands to my sides, and giving me a gentle push to signal that she wanted me to release her. I did as she wished, letting my arms fall to my sides, though what I _really_ wanted to do was take her face in my hands, and kiss her sadness away... and yes, I _know_ that sounds corny and stupid and is impossible, but that's what I wanted to do.

She wiped her face as she stepped away, and when she looked up at me, I saw the wall come down. That damned wall that blocked off her emotions, that said she was 'Grey Warden' now and no longer 'Liftrasa'. She used it to keep people from realizing that she was a _person_, that she struggled with decisions, and that she had emotions at all. To be a bastard, thinking about it I could see why her younger brother wanted her out of the way... she would have been a _magnificent_ queen. How many times had we _all_ drawn strength from her tranquility? How many times had we carried our troubles to her, and expected her to solve them for us, or to make us feel better about them? What selfish bastards we were, that we couldn't let her have a moment, just one bloody _moment_ where _she_ could be unsure. Where _she _could be comforted. Where _her_ troubles could be solved... Maker preserve us, I would've taken on the archdemon by myself if I thought it would've given her that moment.

A flash of compassion moved through her eyes, making me realize how upset _I _must have looked, and I quickly marshaled my features so she wouldn't feel bad about me feeling bad for her... like some kind of fool repeating image trick done with mirrors. I could still see the tears in her eyes when she spoke, but her voice was as steady and strong as it had ever been. Grey Warden, at your service. "Nothing's getting done standing here," she said and walked past me, her head held high and proud as though she and the woman who had just been in my arms were two entirely different people, "The past is the past, and it's best to leave it there."

I didn't know what to say, but I felt that I had to say _something_, "Scaaary," I drawled, falling back on humor when I didn't know what to say. When her brows drew together in confusion, I elaborated, "You sound just like Morrigan."

She frowned slightly, "Everyone has different views, and opinions," she said in that very fair, and ever so slightly chiding voice she used when one of was being... stupid and childish, "and sometimes the views of others are correct, even when you do not normally agree with them."

I _hated _it when she was so unreasonably reasonable like that, and I felt compelled to say _something _as she walked away from me. "What about your brother?" Alright, so sometimes maybe Morrigan was right about me being an idiot.

She didn't turn around, but she stopped and I saw her square her shoulders, the motion causing the sun to glint off the shield on her back. I could guess her expression by the looks the others were giving her. Wynne looked concerned, and Leliana was shocked and worried, while Morrigan and Zevran wore similar amused, approving smirks, and even _Sten _was looking at her with some shade of approval on his stoic face. How fierce and determined she must have looked to get those reactions. "My brothers are dead," her voice was so cold... so cold that it burned my heart, "We face a potentially hostile dwarven king, and nothing more." She started walking again, nodding slightly to the others to acknowledge their presence without breaking stride.

I watched, mute and helpless as she walked away. Wynne and Leliana fell back as she passed them, while Morrigan and Zevran flocked to her, horrible ravens alighting on the shoulders of a Witch of the Wilds... Alright, I felt bad about that analogy, but that's really what it looked like. Sten turned smartly and brought up the rear, following behind the group like a guardian demon. I... might have been feeling a bit uncharitable at the moment, I admit. Mostly though... I felt so helpless, and at a loss. "Well," I said to no one in particular, "Looks like the party's been decided for _this_ sojourn."

Rurik whined in sympathy... it was nice to have _someone_ share my melancholy at least.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>I hope you enjoyed it... I **might** continue this later, I dunno... we'll see.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: **Just completed the sacred urn quest, and have gone into Orzammar... so I have a bit more material to draw from for the fic. Enjoy.

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><p>"Alistair, a word."<p>

I groaned inwardly. While Wynne was by far and away the more pleasant, and less bitchy mage, she could be downright... snarky... and she liked to pick on the young happy people a bit too much for my tastes. I watched her warily as she walked around the fire to reach me.

"Don't give me that look," she chided gently, reminding me that I have trouble keeping my thoughts from my face, "I'm not going to tease you," a ghost of a smile curled her lips, before the concern returned to her face, "I'm worried about Liftrasa."

"Perhaps you should mention that to grim guard," I said flippantly, "_They're_ the ones with her right now, _I'm_ here in the camp with you." I _hated_ being left behind, as childish as that sounded.

Wynne frowned, giving me a disapproving look that was a match for those given to me in the Chantry, "Alistair, now isn't the time to be childish or defensive. I honestly want to talk to you about something important."

I crossed my arms. The only person that could call me on my behavior without me resenting it was our peerless leader. "Then talk."

She sighed softly, and made a placating gesture, "Alistair, you weren't with us when we went through the Gauntlet to get the Urn of Sacred Ashes. She _still_ blames herself for her brother's death, and considering what I heard yesterday, she likely blames herself for her father's death as well."

"Yes, I _had_ noticed that," I replied dryly. _Why_ did everyone think I was just some stupid oaf, only capable of swinging a bleeding sword? "But I don't know what you want, or expect me to do about it. Even if I _did_ know what to say, and I don't, it's not like I could say it anyway, when she's there, and I'm here."

"You blamed yourself for Duncan's death," her voice was very gentle and very understanding, "I think that's a good starting place. As you well know, she's a very giving person, and she hates to see her friends suffer. All you have to do is bring up _your_ misplaced guilt, and when she tries to talk you out of it, turn it back on her."

I scowled slightly, not liking the way the proposal was being framed, and liking the fact that it might work even less. "Right. So as soon as she walks into camp I just ambush her and whine at her?" I scoffed, "I'm dealing with it on my own, because I don't _want_ her to feel like she has to deal with it, and if _she's_ sucking it up and pulling through, the least I can do is the same!"

I watched Wynne's stance shift, and she put her hands on her hips. Shit. I recognized that posture. "Alistair," her voice was sharper than a sword and twice as deadly, "She's _not_ dealing with it, she _running _from it, and you know that as well as I. You're not as stupid as you want people to think," I wasn't sure if I should be happy that she thought I did it on purpose or not, "and you're certainly more attentive when it comes to _her_. I want you to think about what you saw yesterday and look me in the eye, and tell me that you think she has it under control."

I dropped my gaze, feeling like a child being scolded by the clerics again. It was hard not to shuffle my feet and mutter an agreement under my breath. Instead I sighed, "Look I'll... talk to her about it, _if_ she'll talk to me, but I don't promise _anything_, alright?"

"All I ask is that you try." Which of course translated into _'Fix everything up properly and don't mess it up, you rotten little bugger,'_ just wearing a nicer hat. She offered me another ghost of a smile, "If anyone can get through to her, it's you, of that I'm sure."

"Right," I said, and rubbed my face. How the _hell_ was I supposed to bring it up? I didn't want to use Wynne's method, partially out of spite, and partially because I didn't want to add _my_ problems onto Liftrasa's. I sighed and shrugged inwardly. At least I had time to think about it... and maybe by the time she re-emerged she would have worked through it on her own...

Have I mentioned that I _am_ occasionally an idiot?

As it turned out, I only had until breakfast the next morning to plan. I'd only _just_ gotten something to eat, (thank the Maker Leliana can cook, because _I _certainly can't) when the sound of bickering came across the clearing.

"... understand _why _we have to drop everything we're doing to take some fool little girl's request all the way to the Circle of Magi!" Morrigan was protesting, "I'm sure the darkspawn will be _so_ impressed by your willingness to act as a messenger. Oh, I know! Maybe they'll recruit you as their herald to tell all of Ferelden that they're doomed!"

I was sorely tempted to call out an insult when something I had never before seen happened. Liftrasa stopped in her tracks, and rounded on the Bitch of the Wilds. She drew herself up, not like when she was being 'the Grey Warden,' which conveyed strength, wisdom, and determination, no this was completely different. _I _certainly recognized it as the stance Isolde took when she was introduced to the little bastard running around Redcliffe that the arl doted on. It said very clearly, _'You are so far beneath me that the dirt over your head blocks even the soles of my shoes from my view, you grubby little worm, and you've less than no right to even __**address**__ me, let alone question me.' _"I have told you my reasons," she snapped, her voice like whip of ice, lashing into Morrigan hard enough that the brunette fell back a step, and even _Sten_ looked surprised, "If you do not agree with them, then keep it to yourself! I will _not_ change my mind simply because you _wish _me to, and I grow tired of your incessant wheesht!"

I admit, I had no idea what 'wheesht' was, but I'm pretty sure I was tired of it too, if for no other reason than it was something Morrigan was doing. Speaking of the shocked witch, she looked... almost comical, and if the situation were any different, I would have laughed at the dumbstruck look on her face. I didn't though, and her surprise only lasted for a moment before she scowled, "As you wish," she hissed and stalked away. Oooh, there were going to have to be _a lot_ of gifts poured into her to get back on her good side, surely. My attention, however returned to our fearless leader as she turned her gaze to Sten and Zevran long enough to cow them out of any potential comments. When she turned the look on the rest of us in the camp, my brows hit my hairline. Her eyes all but _glowed_ with fury, looking scarily like the lava that ran through her homeland. This face was new to me... it wasn't the Grey Warden, and it _certainly_ wasn't Liftrasa... Hello Lady Aeducan, it's my deepest displeasure to meet you.

Her gaze met mine. I don't know what she found there, like I said I have an expressive face most of the time and she's blamed _good_ at seeing through any fronts I try to put up, but whatever she saw, her expression shifted immediately to contrite, and ashamed. "Morrigan, wait!" she called out and quickly jogged after the mage, her shorter legs making it more difficult to catch up to the quickly retreating figure.

I was about to return to my meal, mulling over what I'd seen, when Zevran sidled up to me. Maker's breath, but I hated that sneaky bastard. "Alistair, might I have a moment?" I hated his accent too.

"Do I have a choice?" I grumbled, doing my best to eat despite the loss of appetite his presence caused.

"Oh you always have a choice my friend," he replied with a laugh, "except when you don't." He sat down beside me, too close for my comfort, but then I don't think assassins care very much for the concept of 'personal space'. "I wanted to discuss our beautiful leader."

Of _course_ he did. "What about her?"

He gave me a surprised look, "Surely after that, even _you_ have noticed something is wrong, yes?"

_Why_ did _everyone_ insist that I was an idiot? "_Yes_, even _I_ noticed she's upset," I snapped, "I _have_ eyes, you know."

He held his hands up in what was likely supposed to be a placating gesture, "Yes, yes, of course, forgive me," he said without a hint of contrition, "I merely meant that she is very upset..."

"And what do you want _me_ to do about it?" I demanded, surely at being left behind and at having to talk to him at all.

He blinked in surprise before his brows drew together, his head tilting slightly as he frowned, "I thought that you two were..." his expression suddenly cleared, and turned irritatingly cheerful, "But if you _aren't _then..." he started to get to his feet.

My hand shot out and I grabbed his arm, preventing him from getting up, "I _meant_," I clarified quickly, "that I'm as at a loss about what to do as everyone else is," I glared at him, "and _yes_ we _are_," I half-growled.

He laughed... I hated his laugh... and smiled, "Peace, peace my friend," I hated it when he called me his friend, "I only sought to lighten the mood with a bit of humor, yes? It's a tactic you use quite often yourself, no?" I hated the way he talked too. Come to think of it, I hated everything about him, really.

"_That_," I said as I released his arm, "wasn't funny," I picked up my spoon again, "Yes, I know that she's upset, _and _I know what she's upset _about_, but I'm never going to think of what to say to her if people keep coming up and bothering me about the bloody damn obvious." I took a bite of my porridge.

"The rumors say that her brother killed their father directly."

I nearly choked. Well _that_ explained a lot, didn't it? And we were forcing her to wade through all that in order to garner allies from the very people that cast her out, and refused to acknowledge her existence. Wonderful. Maker's breath, couldn't she get a break?

Once I could _finally _breathe again, I looked over at Zevran... who was trying to look concerned while also trying not to laugh, and wheezed, "I'll talk to her... just stay at camp, and let me take your place in the party."

"Well that's really _her_ decision, is it not?" he asked, the smirk breaking through.

I glared at him, "Are you worried about her, or not?" I snapped at him, "Because if you _are_, you'll stop being a vain little _tit_, and just let me go with her when we break camp!"

He sighed, and rolled his eyes, "Fine, fine," he said, getting to his feet, "I swear, no one appreciates humor around here," he muttered as he walked away... likely to go hit on Leliana.

I finished breakfast quickly, trying madly to think of what to do. I realized that... well we'd never actually asked _her_ about herself, none of us had. It had always been her asking about _our _pasts, and drawing us into conversations, making us feel important, and like we were the only ones that mattered... and _none _of us had returned the favor... except maybe Wynne, but I didn't know, since I didn't eavesdrop... or at least I _tried _not to, anyway. I set my bowl aside and looked around, unsurprised to see Liftrasa talking to Bodahn. Granted, it _could_ just be that she was just selling off some of the stuff she had picked up around Orzammar, but I'd put money on the fact that she was buying bribe material for Morrigan.

What the hell was I supposed to do?

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><p><strong>Author's note: <strong>I'm not trying to make the Warden seem psycho or bitchy or anything, it's just that she's had to evolve super fast to the situation after coming from a completely alien environment, and then she's been dropped right back into the environment, and that's bound to have an effect on someone... and given the way dwarven society works, it would sure as hell be a **negative** effect.


	3. Chapter 3

I was a selfish bastard. No, I hadn't _just_ figured it out, but as I sat in the blessedly hot bath water, scrubbing away the grime from the road, the thought occurred to me... again. I was a selfish bastard, and a coward to boot. I hadn't opened my mouth the entire way here. I mean, how do you even bring that up? _'Hey, I know you're upset, but it's __**totally**__ not your fault, so pretty please get over it, you're upsetting everyone'_?Somehow I doubted that would be the right way to phrase it.

Thank the Maker for small favors though, the Tower of Magi had agreed to put us up for the night, hence the sinfully wonderful bath. Since there were so few mages left, there were enough bathing rooms available that we could bathe in private... so long as no one minding waiting their turn. Zevran was the only one that seemed to dislike the idea of privacy, and had invited Morrigan and Leliana to join him... and who could blame me for snickering when they turned him down... and harshly at that? I looked forward to the day when Morrigan turned him into a slug... or something equally as bad.

In any event, I was scrubbing absently at an arm as I let my mind wander. The more distance we had put between ourselves and Orzammar, the more normality had returned. Liftrasa and Morrigan had made up... though why Liftrasa bothered was beyond me. At least I had caught her smiling slightly a few times when Morrigan had teased Sten... and here I'd never thought I would feel bad for the qunari. Still, I _knew_ that visiting her home, and being submerged in dwarven politics was bothering Liftrasa, and like Wynne said, she was just running from it. I groaned and rubbed my face with my free hand, dropping the washrag onto the edge of the tub. What the hell was I going to do? Why couldn't Wynne talk to her? _She _was all... wise and elderly... and knew how to talk to people... _I _was just a big dumb sword-swinger, according popular opinion.

I groaned again at the sound of the door opening behind me, "I swear by the Maker, if that's you Zevran, I will cut off your ears and _feed _them to you," I threatened tiredly. A feminine chuckle greeted my words, and I instantly blushed from head to toe, and tried to sink down in the water. Greeeeeeaaaaat, so the Circle was messing with me by sending female apprentices to deliver towels? I hated bloody mages...

"Does Zevran... _often_ try to slip into your baths?" I relaxed slightly at the sound of Liftrasa's voice, and it certainly was nice to hear the teasing lilt that meant that I wasn't speaking to the Grey Warden _or_ the newly re-emerged Lady Aeducan.

"Once is _more_ than often enough," I said, forcing myself to sit up a bit, since it was... kind of stupid to be shy when she had already seen everything I had to offer, as it were. "So... what brings you to this neck of the mage-infested woods?" I asked, trying my hardest to be casual and humorous as I picked up the washcloth once more.

"Oh, you know, I thought I'd peek in and make sure no darkspawn had appeared to interrupt your bath," she replied casually, and I could hear the smile in her voice, "and to make sure that none of the big bad mages had swooped in and turned you into a toad."

I groaned playfully, "You're _never_ going to let me live that down, are you?" I asked, "To be fair though, swooping _is_ bad, and considering we have a shape-shifter traveling with us, it's not unreasonable to assume she could do it to someone else." I blinked in surprise when the washrag was plucked out of my hand. I started to turn, when a hand on my back stopped me, and she gave me a gentle push. I obligingly leaned forward, doing my best to remain as casual as possible. I had _thought_ that after we... you know... it would stop being so bloody awkward, but any time we weren't in a situation where we had to be all business, and she was the least affectionate, I turned into the world's biggest blushing school boy.

"You humans are _so_ poorly made," she commented off-handedly as she started scrubbing my back.

"Um... sorry?" it was both an apology, and a request for an explanation.

"Look at how _big_ you are," she said as she continued scrubbing, "you're _far _taller than you've any need to be, your legs are much longer, and your shoulders are _much_ broader... and yet your arms just could _not_ scale up too! I mean, how do you people scrub your own backs, when you can't even _reach_ all of it?"

"Yes well, not _all_ races can have the dwarves' creepy long arms," I replied, teasing her as she was teasing me, "As for how we scrub our backs on our own," I shrugged, "we tie a rag to a stick."

Her hand stopped... and it stopped somewhere on my lower back that was a bit too... south to be back, but too far north to be anything else. I tried not to squirm while attempting to figure out if this was supposed to be naughty or not. "A rag on a stick?" the confusion was clear in her voice, "You're teasing me again, aren't you?"

That... was a rather _odd_ thing to accuse me of joking about, "No, actually," I said, her confusion confusing me in turn, "A long-handled scrub brush does the job too," I offered, hoping that would clear things up. It was _so _odd sometimes, the things that seemed to give her pause. She took vengeful ghosts, corrupted wildlife, and even bloody _dragons_ in stride, but rain, trees, rabbits, and now apparently improvised back-scrubbers, seemed to initially flummox her.

She sighed, and to my relief, started scrubbing again, "Like I said, poorly made. Though I suppose it's not just humans, but surface races in general."

"Yes," I said cheerfully, "_do_ pity us, oh superior burrowing race, for we cannot even wash our own backs without help. Sometimes I wonder how we even learned to walk upright, and wear clothing." I laughed, wincing exaggeratedly as she lightly flicked my ear.

"My _point_," she said with mock exasperation, "was that you take _forever_ to bathe, my heart. I mean even _Leliana_ has finished before you, and she has significantly more hair, _and _more desire to be floral-scented."

I laughed, trying to hide the embarrassed little thrill that went through me every time she used a term of endearment, "Well there's significantly _more_ to me than there is to her," I pointed out, "and furthermore _she _doesn't walk around swaddled in wool under about sixty pounds of metal," I tilted my head slightly, "I mean if you _want _I could be more slap-dash about it, but I'd rather _not_ end up smelling like Rurik, if it's all the same."

She laughed, and it was damn good to hear, "Well _I_ didn't want to say anything, but there _have _been complaints," she teased as she finished her task and set the washrag aside.

"Yes well, so long as you don't let Wynne drag me down to a stream and give me a scrub like you did with the dog, I don't care," I replied flippantly, wondering what was going to happen next... she didn't seem to be leaving after all... She put her hands on my shoulders and began kneading them, her fingers seeking out knots and working them away with gentle, but firm pleasure. My eyelids fluttered, and a moan escaped me. What? Sixty pounds of metal. Fighting in. Give me a break. "You have until the end of time to stop that," I muttered under my breath as I leaned back against the edge of the tub.

"Well I don't think I'll be at it _that_ long," she said with a chuckle, "since we have things to do and all... and if you stay in the bath too long, you'll wrinkle."

I smiled wryly, "Yes, because that's something I stay up nights worrying about. I mean, I'd just be _ruined_ if my fingers and toes wrinkled..." I winced as she flicked my ear again, "Alright, alright, I'll _try _to stop being a smart ass... but I make no promises." I was saying that an awful lot lately... which reminded me that I was supposed to be talking to her seriously about something... which promptly brought my shoulders up around my ears.

"If you keep tensing, I'll never get the knots out," she chided gently, "I almost had out a nasty one that I'm pretty sure was named Morrigan."

I forced myself to relax, and even chuckled softly, though it sounded a bit forced, "No, _that_ knot lives between my shoulder blades," I said as flippantly as I could, "that way it can duck under a bone to hide so it'll never go away." I _knew_ she was going to ask me what was wrong, but... I just wasn't ready for that conversation, so I asked, "Where did you learn to do this? You're _really_ good."

Her hands slowed their ministrations, "Oh, you know, you pick up things here and there..."

That... wasn't an answer... and usually she was _very _persuasive and convincing when she withheld information. "So where did you pick it up?"

"Does it matter?"

"Only because you're avoiding the question," I said with a sigh, "I promise I'll stop being stubborn if you do," it sounded like a fair compromise.

She sighed, "I've always been a quick study," she said, and the only reason I knew she wasn't skirting the issue was because of the resignation in her voice, "and... assassins have to know how someone is put together in order to take them apart efficiently..."

I waded through the deep muddy of that statement easier than most people would assume I could, though I admit it was because we only had _one _assassin in the group. "You learned it from Zevran," I said flatly.

She sighed again, "I learned it from Zevran," she agreed wearily, "Which is _also _where I learned how to more efficiently kill the people and darkspawn trying to kill us," she pointed out, "Like I said, it's the same general principle."

"I see," I said flatly. It wasn't that... well it _was _that I didn't like the idea of her learning assassination techniques, that just wasn't all of it. I could ignore the first bit really, since I knew she wasn't about to turn into Princess Stabbity just because she knew the proper knife angle for a heart strike from behind. What _really _bothered me was that it was _Zevran_ teaching her, and her spending time with _him_, in close quarters, with him _touching _her... again...

She groaned and rested her forehead against the top of my head, "Really? _This_ again?"

"What do you mean _again_?" I protested defensively, scowling as I crossed my arms, "Well I'm _so_ very sorry if I'm not comfortable with the idea of you having tea and stabbings with the man who was sent to _kill _you."

She sighed and wrapped her arms around me, hugging me from behind, and resting her chin on my shoulder... at which point I noticed that she wasn't wearing any clothes, or at least not many, and almost immolated despite the current situation. One day, _one _day I swore to myself that I'd be a worldly adult... "Alistair," she murmured, mindful of the fact that she was speaking right beside my ear and not wanting to deafen me, "You asked me before who I wanted, and I chose you. That's _never_ going to change. Yes, I slept with Zevran, _once_, before I even knew you were interested in me. He and I were _never_ anything, while you and I _are_, I _love_ you, and that's not going to change either. Come darkspawn, archdemon, or... rabid nug infestation, I'll _always _love you, and want to be with _you_ and _no one_ else," she turned her head and kissed my cheek, "But that doesn't mean that I'm not going to take advantage of a great opportunity that presents itself to give us the edge over our enemies... within reason, of course."

It was hard to stay mad in the face of that touching little speech... and the humor made it even harder as I did my best _not_ to imagine a rapid nug infestation running through the streets, while noble ladies jumped up on chairs and tables screaming. Still, I'm particularly pig-headed, which I was apparently doing my best to illustrate, "Yeah, well... how would _you_ feel if I'd slept with Morrigan, and then spent time learning massage from her?"

"Confused... and very, very angry," she replied _far_ too mildly.

"See?" I demanded, "Then you understand..."

"Angry at Morrigan for using mind control on you," she interrupted the building tirade, her voice still mild and calm, "because I'm entirely sure that's the only way you'd sleep with her, and confused because Morrigan knows as much about massage as I know about spell craft." She turned her head and nuzzled my cheek, "Really, Alistair, has _this_ been what you've been upset about? What should I do to prove to you that you're the only one I love, and that I really, truly want to be with you for the rest of our lives, however long or short that will be?"

Alright, I was starting to feel like a tit in the face of her gentle reason, and I opened my mouth to apologize, when something she had said struck me, "Wait a minute! What do you mean _I've_ been upset?" I asked, turning to look at her... and instantly regretting it because it made her let me go.

She crossed her arms, making it difficult for me to keep my eyes on her face, while a blush creeped up my neck. One day... _one day_... Luckily she _was_ at least wearing her underthings, so thank the Maker for small favors. How the hell could anyone argue with a naked person? "I'm not blind, Alistair," she said, "You've been brooding, and the whole trip here you looked like there was something on your mind. I figured since we were alone now, without anyone to overhear it would be a good time to bring it up."

I frowned, "So you think _I'm_ the one that's upset? About _Zevran_?"

"That _is_ what I said, and what all current evidence is pointing to, yes," she replied, and were it not for the slightest hint of sarcasm in her voice, I would have feared I was speaking to the Grey Warden.

"I'm not upset about _him_," I protested, "I'm upset about _you_!" Her arms dropped to her sides, and she drew back as though struck, her brows drawing together. I felt like an ass as I watched confusion and hurt swirl about in eyes that could only be described as the greenest blue. Distantly I wondered if the Stone her people worshiped was jealous of being unable to produce gems as beautiful... But that romantic stuff was neither here nor there, and I'd feel too stupid to say it aloud later, so I pushed it out of my mind as I held my hands up in a surrendering gesture, "Wait, wait. That came out wrong. Can I try again? Please?" What? Let's see _anyone_ maintain their pride in the face of the heart-wrenching look she was giving me. I don't think even _Shale_ could, and _it_ was quite literally made of stone! At her nod, I tried again... though I was pretty sure I was going to botch it. "Look..." I shifted so I could sit up, and turn to look at her more fully, "I've been trying to think about how to bring something up with you, but I'm not particularly good at talking about delicate subjects, and I've been agonizing about how to mention it without hurting you, or making you withdraw from me." Oh yes, from the now slightly fearful look in her eyes, I could tell I was botching it right and proper. Right, time to be blunt. "I'm _worried _about you, Liftrasa. Going back to Orzammar, facing your younger brother, and his treachery, dealing your father's death, and the rumors surrounding it, _none _of that can be easy, and the way you broke down on the road on the way there.." I lifted my hands, imploring her to understand what I was trying to say, "and then you just... blocked it all off, and you haven't said anything about it since, but it's clearly still bothering you, I mean, look at the way you blew up at Morrigan! You _never_ yell at any of us, even when we _really_ deserve it!"

"I've never been much of a yeller," she said coolly, and my heart sank as I realized I wasn't dealing with Liftrasa anymore, "Would you prefer if I started?" and _that_ was too bitchy for the Grey Warden. Hello Lady Aeducan, I kind of hate you.

I sighed and rubbed my face, "Andraste's ass, I'm no good at this," I said, trying to play the sympathy card, "I'm not questioning you at all... I'm just... I don't know! I'm offering a shoulder to cry on, and ears to listen if you want to talk... like you've done for me with what happened at Ostagar."

Her face softened slightly, and she looked away, which was _not_ something a stuck up noble would do, which meant that I _was_ getting through to her. Yea! "It won't change what happened," she said quietly.

"No, it won't, nothing will... but like _you _pointed out to _me_, talking about it will at least help you make peace with it... or at least start on the path to making peace with it, and moving on with your life."

"I don't _want_ to talk about it," she insisted, and I took the petulance as a good sign, since the Grey Warden was too mature for that, and the princess was too stuck up.

"Why not?"

She reached up with a hand and rubbed her face wearily, "Because it hurts to think about," she whispered, "it hurts to face it, and I'm a coward and a wimp," she shot me what was likely supposed to be a glare, but fell drastically short because of the pain on her face, and the tears in her eyes, "Happy now?"

"No," I said, standing and grabbing a towel to wrap around my waist before getting out of the tub, "because you're wrong. You're perhaps the _least_ cowardly and wimpy person I know," I walked over and drew her into my arms as I had on the road in the mountains, "No one _wants _to be in pain, and there's no shame in trying to avoid it when you can, but sometimes treating the injury hurts," I didn't know where all this eloquence was coming from, but I inwardly prayed it wouldn't desert me, because I _really_ needed all the help I could get. I lifted her chin gently, and offered her a wry half-smile, "And if _you're_ a coward, then I shudder to think what the rest of us are," I gently brushed some stray hair from where it had fallen into her eyes, and distantly wished she left it down more often. It was as soft as Orlesian silk, and as lustrous as the rubies that shared its color... and that train of thought was another one I never planned on sharing aloud. I brought my mind back to the task at hand, "Duncan always told me that 'bravery' isn't the lack of fear, it's being scared out of your mind, but keeping your wits about you and doing what you have to do precisely _because_ you have to," my brows drew together I stroked her hair, "and I miss him, and it hurts to think about him, and about what happened to him, but _he_ certainly wouldn't want me to beat myself up about it forever... and I imagine that your father and elder brother feel the same, don't you?"

Tears had started sliding down her cheeks somewhere in the middle of that speech, but she neither wiped them away, nor dropped my gaze, "Trian doesn't blame me," she whispered, "I know that... and the letter Gorim gave me tells me that Father not only didn't blame _me, _but blamed himself... it just... doesn't make it hurt any less, or make me feel any less like I failed them."

I carefully brushed away her tears, "Because it's never been about anyone but _you_ blaming you," I said gently, "I _really_ do understand, Liftrasa, even if I'm a just big dumb sword-swinger and can't express it properly, I _do _understand... and even though I can't promise I'll know how to make you feel better or what the right thing to say is, I _will_ always be here for you to talk to when you want to."

She nodded slightly, and finally wrapped her arms around me, hugging me tightly. Hooray! I didn't screw it all up! Maybe the others _were_ right to nominate me to talk to her... _maybe_. I still think Wynne could have done a better job of it, without making Liftrasa so sad first, but mission accomplished... I guessed. In any event, I held her as she cried, once more losing track of time... which was quiet a feat, considering that I was wet and cold in the slightly drafty damn tower. Eventually she pulled away, and quickly rubbed her face to try to put herself back in some kind of order, "Look at me," she said with a fragile little laugh, "crying on you when you're already wet, and it's so Stone-cursed _cold_! You're going to catch your death if you don't dry off and get into something warm."

I laughed too as I released her, feeling like a huge weight had been lifted off my heart, "It's not as cold as all that," I said as I grabbed another towel, "_you're_ just a lava person."

Her brows drew together and she tilted her head, "A lava person?" she asked as she picked up the robe I hadn't known she had been wearing before washing my back, "How am I a lava person? I'm not _made_ of lava."

"No, but you _come_ from lava," I pointed out with a grin, "It's all over the place in Orzammar, like rivers and lakes here in Ferelden, therefore, you're a lava person."

She laughed, and it wasn't half so fragile as it had been earlier, "But that would be like saying that you're a water person, because there are lakes and rivers in Ferelden," she said, pointing out the one flaw in my clever reasoning as she shrugged back into her robe and tied it, "Furthermore, it's only 'lava' when it breaks the surface. Until then, it's magma."

I rolled my eyes, peeking out at her from under the towel as I dried my hair, "Whatever. Magma, lava, it's only important to you midgets."

"Hey, at least we're _well-made_ midgets," she replied smiling, "that can wash our own backs!"

"So can the dog."

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

She laughed, and it was finally back to normal, "Why do I put up with you again?" she teased.

"Because of my quick wit, brilliant mind, and sparkling personality," I replied flippantly as I finished drying off, and put on the robe that had been provided for me.

"Or maybe it's because you're a warm, caring, loving man," she said quietly, "who makes me happier than I've ever been in my life, despite the chaos going on around us," she walked over, and took a hold of the front of my robe, so she could pull me down into a kiss. When she pulled away, she gave me a slightly sad smile, "I think, if the offer is still on the table, I'd like to tell you about my family, once we get settled in for the night."

"Of course," I said quietly, and stole another soft kiss.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: **I've actually finished the game, and I might take this fic all the way to the end... but if I do, I think I'll keep working in snapshots/slices of life like I've been doing, though perhaps on a smaller scale, rather than try a continuous narrative of every little thing to the end.

* * *

><p>"I know it's strange to you, but reputation is the currency of politics in Orzammar," Liftrasa was explaining, yet again, to Morrigan after the latter had voiced yet another protest at helping the people, "Though all of the deshyrs know me, and most of them watched me grow up... warily, I should add," she said with a mirthless smile, "upon being exiled and stricken from the memories, I never existed, so they no longer know me, at least not publicly or politically. Instead I am the Grey Warden, as much an outsider as you and Alistair, and therefore must work from the ground up. I admit that it can be quite frustrating, but it's necessary to get what I want..." she turned her head to look at the mage raising a brow slyly, "Because the forces they send won't <em>all <em>be the armies of nobles, there _will _be volunteer forces, and what better way to inspire people to follow you, most likely to their deaths, than by inspiring them and making them _want _to follow you, because you are so very different, in a good way, from what they are used to?"

That was a very succinct, manipulative way to put it... and part of me wondered if she _actually _thought that way, or if she was just placating Morrigan. It seemed to work though, for the mage sighed and threw her hands up, "I am sure you know your people better than I," she said, "I simply wish to get this over with."

"What's wrong, Morrigan?" I taunted, "Feeling claustrophobic? Like maybe the ceiling will come down any moment? Or the cave will collapse, and trap you here forever, breathing hot air and rock dust for the rest of your limited days?"

She turned enraged eyes on me, and I felt rather proud of myself, "One does not expect a fish to be comfortable on land," she snapped, "nor does one expect a horse to be comfortable underwater, so your mocking is nothing more than a needless statements with the soul purpose of making you feel clever!"

"That's not true!" I protested, grinning, "My mocking also makes you mad, and _that's_ a worthy goal right there, don't you think?"

"Pashaara! You are _both_ wasting time with your incessant chatter!" Sten snapped, surprising both of us, "Will you not be silent, for even five minutes so the Warden can do what she must, and we can be finished?"

Too dumbstruck to respond, we stared up at the qunari in shock... allowing Liftrasa to respectfully approach a woman quietly, but fervently praying before a statue.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Alistair?"

"Yes Wynne?" We were watching the proving where Liftrasa was championing for Lord Harrowmont... and doing a _damn _fine job of it at that! She had just managed to take out the twins she had been set against with barely a scratch! It was easy to forget that she was a hardened warrior, fully capable of front line fighting, considering she usually let us bruisers wade in and do the heavy fighting while she flanked and did... tricky things. Of course, she had managed to do tricky things quite well in these fights too, since no one seemed to expect her to throw sand in their eyes and kick them in the forks... You'd think they would learn.

"What do you think about Liftrasa's current course of action?"

"I think it's pretty amazing that she just steps into a Proving again like she never left, and reminds them that she's the same unbeatable champion that left," I said, trying to keep most of the pride from my voice. I turned to look at the mage, and realized from a tight-lipped expression that I had missed the point. Oops. "But... that's not what you meant," I sighed softly, "She's taking a lot of actions, you have to be specific."

"Supporting Lord Harrowmont," she clarified, "I know that I am unfamiliar with the way the dwarven monarchy is handled, but with so many people set on Bhelen taking the throne, to the point where they attack us in the streets, would it not be wiser and a better guarantee for stability to put him on the throne after all?"

I stared at her in shock. _She _was the last person I would have expected to endorse a... murdering jerk. "I'm sorry," I said, not bothering to keep the anger from my voice, "but did I just hear the sweet old mage that often goes out of her way to be the group's moral compass advocating putting a fratricidal, lying, right dirty bastard on the throne, _just_ because it's the _easy_ thing to do?"

She flushed, though whether it was from anger or shame I wasn't sure, "That's _not_ what I meant," she chided, "I meant that it's possible that, despite his past actions, Bhelen may very well be what Orzammar needs. He's made it clear that he's more than adept at these... _awful_ political games, and even if none of us would call him a good person, he _does_ seem to know how to handle the system here." As I continued to stare at her like she had grown a second head, she sighed, "What I mean is, do you think she's letting her personal feelings cloud the situation and is acting more out of a desire for revenge than a desire to create a stable situation for the people here?"

"I think," I said carefully, "that it is _her_ decision what she should and should not do in this situation, because a) she's our leader, and we follow her will, and b) it's _her _country and _her_ family involved, not ours, which effectively makes it none of our business."

She frowned, "Alistair, how can you say that? Of course it's our business, since it directly effects the allies we will have to call on in the final battle..."

"_Both_ men would agree to send troops, I'm sure," I cut her off, "Though whether or not _Bhelen_ actually would is rather up in the air, considering everything he's done, don't you think? If you're looking at it from a purely strategic point of view, it makes more sense to side with Harrowmont, since we know _he _can be trusted to honor his word..." I knew that Wynne didn't have the full story, so I forced myself to temper my anger a bit, "When she was turned out into the Deep Roads to die, Harrowmont gave her a shield and dagger, so she could at least die fighting. I don't know if she wants to put him on the throne in thanks, or to honor her father's last wish, or to spite Bhelen, or because she thinks it's the right thing to do strategically or morally, but I _do _know that I'm not going to question her in this," I held my hands up pleadingly, "Don't press her about it Wynne, I'm begging you. Just... let her do what she thinks is right here."

"Alistair..." she looked pained, but I cut her off anyway.

"You were at Ostagar. Did you see her when she first arrived? She didn't even have _shoes_, Wynne! Bhelen had her thrown to the darkspawn wearing only rags, and Harrowmont at least offered her an honorable death... which is _directly _what allowed her to fight her way to Duncan, and become a Grey Warden. If it hadn't been for him, then we wouldn't have any chance of getting _any_ allies to help us with the Blight. Just... let it be."

"By that logic if Bhelen hadn't betrayed her, then none of that would have happened either," she pointed out with a sigh, "but I _will _keep my silence. You're right, though not for the reasons you perhaps think. Harrowmont is _far_ more likely to honor his agreements than Bhelen, and even if it's not what's best for Orzammar, it's what's best for Ferelden."

I sighed in relief, "Thank you, Wynne," I said quietly, "Now let's never speak of this again, alright? We wouldn't want anyone to bring up this conversation with Liftrasa..." I shot a very suspicious look at Rurik... who whined and tilted his head in confusion, "I'm onto you," I warned him, "Toting tales about everyone... You're the biggest gossip in the camp!" The dog whined again, and Wynne chuckled. Crisis averted.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Alright," Liftrasa said, rubbing her face, "We have to stop... I'm so tired I can't even tell where I'm going anymore." I tried to keep the relief from my face as we came to a stop. I knew that the archdemon was singing as loudly in her blood as it was in mine, and on top of that, she had even _less_ reason to sleep, when assassins sent by her brother might attack her in the night. "I can't even tell if we're making any progress..."

"What d'ya mean y'can't tell if we're makin' progress?" Oghren roared, "Y'been on the surface too long, and lost yer stone sense? You go soft among those nug-lovin' pike-twirlers up there? Or's all that light made y'go blind? It's as plain as the tits on her chest," he jerked a thumb to Morrigan, who scowled at him, "that we're gettin' closer to the thaig!"

I wondered some times where she found all of the patience she continuously showed in these situations, "It was merely a statement to demonstrate how tired I am, not an accusation that we've been lead wrong, or that we aren't getting anywhere. I'm _tired_ Oghren, and as the only person that can spot _and_ disassemble traps, I think it rather behooves me to not be too exhausted to notice them if we intend to live through this, don't you?"

"But Branka's still out there!" he protested immediately, throwing his hand out to indicate the tunnels, "We've seen her mark! How can you wanna stop when we're so close?" He took a deep breath to continue his tirade, and she held up her hand... That was all she did, I _swear_, she just held up her hand, and he froze.

"Warrior Oghren," well hello Lady Aeducan, welcome to the party, "I understand your plight, and I _am_ doing my best to assist you, however none of us are of any use to anyone if we are exhausted. Branka has been in the Deep Roads for two years now, and I _highly_ doubt that eight more hours will make much of a difference." He scowled, and would have protested again, but she made a slicing motion with her hand, "I'll _not_ discuss this again! We have cleared out this cavern, and we will set watch so everyone will have a chance to get some sleep. I'll take first watch..." she looked over at Morrigan, "and she'll take last."

"Why d'you two get the best watches?" Oghren demanded.

"Because _I _must call for complicated magics from beyond the Fade and bend them to my will," Morrigan snapped, "and when I am exhausted, my aim gets a bit... shall we say erratic? You are magic _resistant_, dwarf, not magic _proof_!"

"Asschabs," he grumbled, "_Fine_, I'll take second to last watch," he continued to grumble as he stomped off, making the rest of us breathe a bit easier as his stink left the immediate vicinity.

"My we _do_ have an amazing affinity for picking up filthy things, don't we?" Morrigan said snidely, "The dog, that dwarf, and let us not forget Alistair..." I opened my mouth to say something back... when Liftrasa suddenly burst into tears. For probably the first time in the entire journey, the mage and I shared identical shocked, helpless looks before turning our attention on our leader. "I..." Morrigan tried, her brows drawn together and looking genuinely distress, "I..." she shook her head, "I'll take my leave then," she finished lamely and quickly walked away, leaving me with holding the bag, as it were.

I looked down at our fearless leader, her face buried in her hands, and her shoulders shaking violently, and felt completely at a loss about what to do. "M-my dear?" I asked lamely, stepping closer to her, and putting my hands on her shoulders... when something that sounded suspiciously like a snicker escaped her. Suspicion bubbled inside me, and I leaned down a bit to hear better. She was... she was _laughing_! "What...?"

She wiped her face quickly and smirked up at me, her eyes still wet, but gleaming mischievously, "And Gorim told me being able to cry on command wasn't that useful," she smirked, "It shut you two up damn fast, didn't it?"

I frowned, "You evil little..." I shook my head, "I was _worried_!"

"I know," she said and patted me on the chest, "but I'm tired and frustrated, and that seemed like the quickest way to make you two stop," she held up a finger, "and it _was_, I should point out," she reached up and grabbed the front of my armor, and pulled me down to her level, so she could give me a kiss... which made me blush horribly, but I didn't exactly protest either. She released me and stepped back, "Now get some rest, I'm waking you up for next watch," with that she turned and walked over to the cavern entrance.

She lied... she didn't wake me up at all. She took my watch, and I was the only one that got to sleep the full eight hours, despite her insistence that she and Morrigan needed the sleep the most. I wasn't sure if I was mad at her about that, or touched... maybe she just wanted the extra time to think by herself for a while.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The council room had _exploded_ when Harrowmont was crowned with Caridin's relic... and when Morrigan started casting, that became less of an expression, and more of a reality. It didn't do much good, however, considering how often her spells were resisted. The guards waded into the fray, even as all the nobles took up the fight personally. Personally, I did my best to stay near Liftrasa. It would have been a fool to miss the way she was positioning herself to take on Bhelen personally once his guards went down. I did what I could to both clear her path, and block the way to keep others from reaching the siblings... and to my surprise, Oghren helped as well. I guess the twisted dwarven concept of honor really _was_ important to the smelly little man.

The battle seemed to drag on forever, and I have no idea how many of the little devils I had beaten down with my shield. Let me tell you, dwarves were as resistant to being knocked on their asses as they were to magic! It probably had something to do with them being so close to the ground. They were right little bastards because of their weapons of choice too, great bloody mauls bigger than _they_ were, that they wielded effortlessly. I took a swing to the chest, and ended up on _my _ass, wheezing desperately for air. I might have blacked out, because the next thing I knew, it was quiet in the council chamber, the only sounds those of people sheathing their weapons. "We won?" I muttered to no one in particular, still feeling a bit light-headed, "We did?" no one was attacking anyone, and people were walking away, so... "Yay!"

Morrigan was the only person close to me that I recognized, and she shot me a look so full of venom, a _spider_ would be jealous. Or possibly a snake... Did I mention that I was kind of sure that I had cracked my skull when I fell? Because I think I had. I _did_ notice that the look was even _more_ hateful than usual, which I wondered at as I went back to looking around. It took me a second to spot Oghren, but he seemed perfectly happy to be annoying the guards, and trying to talk them into getting a drink with him. Someone was missing. Now who was it...

I sprang to my feet... or rather I _tried_ to, because as soon as I was vertical, I was hit by a wave of dizziness and weakness as lights exploded behind my eyes. To my unending shock, it was Morrigan that came to my rescue, after a fashion anyway. She shoved her staff under my arm to give me something to prop myself up on, and I found myself nodding slightly in thanks... would wonders never cease. As soon as I realized I had done it, I shot her a suspicious look, trying to figure out what her angle was.

She sneered at me as a healing spell, which I hadn't known she could cast, hit me, "'Tis not for you," she muttered and yanked her staff away, making me stumble. She jerked her chin to the side, and I looked in that direction, picking out a single living armored dwarf among the corpses. Oh. Well, if nothing else, it was nice to know that the bitch cared about _someone_. I nodded and walked around her, heading for that single living person.

She was on her knees beside Bhelen's body, holding his hand and crying. I... couldn't understand why she was so upset, he had killed their older brother _and _done his damn best to kill _her_! I had watched him wade through the crowd, as determined to get to her as she to him! One blow from that huge maul would have...

She looked up at my approach, tears washing rivets in the blood splattering her face. She said something in dwarven, but I didn't understand it... hell the only time I'd heard her speak in dwarven at all was to swear. "He was my _brother_," she said in the common tongue, and I realized with horror that she must have read the confusion in my expression, "Whatever else he was, he was my _brother_!" she lowered her gaze to his face, and reached out with a shaking hand to brush the hair from his face... it almost broke my heart, "We used to... to play pranks on Trian as children," her voice faltered as a sob tore its way free, "He would... sneak into my room to... hide from his tutors..." her frame was shaking as she swallowed back more sobs, and lifted a hand to wipe her face, though all that did was smear about the blood, "He... he used to wonder..." she tried to use the back of her arm to wipe her eyes, but was met with the same lack of success, "if th-the ancestors forgave the p-people that wronged them, and w-welcomed them back into the Stone when their time came..." she shuddered again as she fought desperately to continue speaking, "I-I said it must depend o-on whether their honor w-was restored..." she looked up at me, for the world looking like some kind of embodiment of sorrow, "D-do you think I managed that?" she whispered, "D-do you think I-I gave them back their honor s-so they could welcome him?"

I... didn't know what to say, and it hit me that all the platitudes I knew would only comfort someone that believed in the Maker... and I didn't know if she did. She had never discussed it, and simply left the rest of us up to religious bickering. "I'm sure you did," I said and left it at that, since I was entirely in the dark on dwarven religious practices and beliefs, such as they were.

It didn't seem to help... Her eyes squeezed shut, "By the Stone, I've killed my House!" she moaned, "There are cousins left but... Oh, Paragon Aeducan... a-at least I'm fighting the d-darkspawn, as you did..." a sob escaped her, "One... last suicidal stand, no one thinks... will work..."

I _still_ didn't know what to say, and I looked around desperately for help. To my surprise, it was Oghren that came over and put his hands on her shoulders, "Come on, Warden," he said gruffly, "He's with the Stone now, let them take the body away." I was startled to discover that there _were_ more dwarves in the room, and they were indeed picking up the corpses and taking them away. I turned my attention back to my companions, and watched the berserker help her to her feet. I wished I had been the one to help her, but at least there was _someone_ that could understand... after all _he _had just had to kill his wife. I turned and followed them once they walked by, and wracked my brain to try to think of ways to make this better... or at the very least less painful... if that were even possible... Probably not.


	5. Chapter 5

We were _all_ glad to get out of Orzammar. After all that time in the hot, dusty underground everyone was more than happy to camp next to a river so we could all bathe, even knowing that it'd be colder than Morrigan's heart. Liftrasa... hadn't said a word since we left. Well, that wasn't _exactly_ true, she had spoken to merchants, and the people we had needed to report to once we finished their favors, but her voice was flat and monotonous. It was pretty bloody clear that she was only going through the motions, but _I_ certainly had no idea what to say to her to make her feel any better.

I watched her sitting by the fire staring blankly into it, the slump of her shoulders making my heart ache. Leliana had tried talking to her, but it hadn't done any good nor had Wynne's attempts to do the same. She had simply listened, nodding where appropriate, and then walking away when she felt the conversation should be finished. I... hadn't even tried. I admit it, I'm a horrible coward, but someone once told me that discretion is the better part of valor, and I'd rather not jump in with both feet and make it worse. It helped that anytime she caught me looking at her, or even looking like I might walk over to her, she walked away. It was like she was wearing a huge sign that said _'No Alistair allowed, don't even try.'_

I sighed softly in defeat, and finished gathering up the rest of my clothing so I could go bathe with Sten and... Zevran. I wished we could make the bloody assassin bathe by himself, but it _was _foolish to send one person alone away from the group, and it practically _invited _an ambush... not that I'd mind if he was ambushed, but I think it would annoy Liftrasa. Speaking of the slutty elf, where was he? I hadn't seen him in a while, and I just _knew_ he was up to no good...

I spotted him on the other side of the camp. He had already stripped out of his armor, and was walking around without his shirt, likely so he could show off some of his tattoos, the little shit. He wasn't swaggering though, which was a bit of a shock since that was his normal mode of travel as far as I'd seen. He was also carrying flowers, just some of the local mountain flora we'd seen, nothing too impressive, but he walked purposefully over to the fire, and knelt next to Liftrasa, offering her the flowers. I bristled. How _dare_ he use _this _as an opportunity to hit on her? Had he no _shame_? ... No wait, that was a stupid question, of course he didn't. Had he no sense of decency? Damn it! That was a stupid question too. In my defense, I was nearly mad with rage, and about ready to grab Oghren's maul and crush the little bastard, especially when he gently stroked her hair.

But... he didn't try anything. He left the flowers by her feet, squeezed her shoulder, and then got up and walked away. Right... what? Had that _really_ just happened? Had Zevran, _Zevran_, really just offered condolences in a serious manner without trying to make it into a proposition? Could that... could that even _happen_? What next? Morrigan settling down and raising a family? Shale singing sailing shanties? Oghren bathing (Maker, I wish he would...)? Sten dancing the Remigold?

Speaking of the qunari, it seemed like it was his turn to take a part in the fire-side drama. He walked over, looming beside the sitting dwarf for just a moment before kneeling beside her. I heard the rumble of his voice, but couldn't make out his words. To my surprise, she actually reacted to _him_. When he fell silent she actually _looked _at him, like in the _eyes_, something she hadn't done with anyone, and then reached out and patted his arm before giving it a slight squeeze, nodding once. He rose from the log and strode away, walking towards me in order to get to the path leading to the river. As he walked by, I couldn't help but blurt out, "What did you say to her?" hoping against hope that there was some secret he would share that would give me some insight on what to say or do for her.

It was stupid, I know. He only glanced at me for a second as he walked by, "It has nothing to do with you."

"It does," I protested weakly, following after him.

"No, it does _not_," and I could tell from the tone that that would be all I got out of him on the matter.

The water was every bit as cold as I'd feared, and not even Zevran wanted to linger longer than absolutely necessary. Nor did he make any snide comments about the temperature's effect on... you know... nor did he hit on either of us. He must have felt my gaze on him, because he turned to look at me as he washed his hair, and just shook his head, "I'm sorry to disappoint you, my friend," I'm _really _not his friend, "but this is hardly the atmosphere for teasing, don't you agree?"

"I'm _not_ disappointed," I snapped, "I'm just surprised you'd let a little thing like heart-wrenching sorrow stop you."

His brows drew together, and he gave me an all together offended look, "What kind of monster do you think I am, Alistair?" he quickly held up a hand to cut me off, "No, no, do not answer that, I can guess, I'm sure. I meant that even _I _cannot find much levity when our beautiful leader suffers so," he tilted his head slightly, "Even the distant Morrigan has been looking a bit glum, no?"

I opened my mouth to say that Morrigan was incapable of human emotion, but quickly stopped myself when I realized that he was right. _Everyone_ had been much more... subdued since we left Orzammar... well, everyone other than Oghren, who was constantly drunk, which was _like_ being subdued... when he was passed out anyway. Still, that gave me a lot to think about. I'd realized before, of course, that Liftrasa was the glue that held us together, I'm not _that _stupid. I mean, without her, Morrigan wouldn't have had anything to do with us, _I _would've killed Zevran for the assassination attempt, Sten would have left, Rurik wouldn't be here at all, and neither would Shale. I think the only people that would still be working together would be me, Wynne and Leliana... and _I'd_ be in charge as the only Grey Warden... which meant we'd be lost, people would be dead, and I'd be stranded somewhere without any pants. Damn. _She_ was the one that _made_ us a team, the one that kept us calm rather than at each others' throats, and the one that took the time to give each of us attention, and make us feel like we actually had an important role, and our presence was appreciated. With her down, and no one able to cheer her up, it was like a black cloud had settled over the camp, and over our hearts. I'd known that everyone _liked _her and depended on her, of course, but I didn't realize until then how much _everyone_ cared about her, not just me. Maker's breath, every last one of us, from stoic Sten to bitchy Morrigan to emotionless Shale loved her... and no one could do anything to cheer her up. Blast and damnation!

I could smell the booze before we even got back to camp. We were downwind as we came up the path, and it was _terrible_! It didn't help that it was mixed in with the horrifying smell that accompanied Oghren everywhere. Speaking of the berserker, he was sitting next to Liftrasa now, and there was a keg beside them, and judging from how far he had to tip it forward to refill his tankard, I was willing to bet it was a mostly empty keg at that. He was speaking in dwarven, though I occasionally caught the word 'nug', which made me think he was insulting someone, and Branka's name. Well, maybe having someone to share sorrow with would help her? A glance at her told me that that didn't seem to be the case though. She had the same stoop-shouldered posture she'd had in when we left.

Leliana noticed out return and walked over to the fire, putting a hand on Liftrasa's shoulder to get her attention, "The others are back," she announced quietly, "We should go bathe, no? I've already gotten clean clothes for you." She shot a glare at Oghren when he started snickering drunkenly and leering suggestively, "Keep it to yourself," she snapped at him as she offered her hand to our leader to help her to her feet.

Liftrasa ignored it, standing on her own. I noticed the slightest sway to her frame, but she steadied quickly and turned to head off with the bard. As she approached us, the scent of alcohol grew stronger until she was abreast of us, and I was wondering if you could get drunk on the fumes alone. Her eyes remained on the ground as she walked by us, until Sten said quietly, "_Kadan_?"

She looked up at the qunari, and said tiredly, "_Shok ebasit hissra. Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun_," she patted his arm again, and then continued heading down the path, leaving all of us, including Sten himself, stunned. When the hell had she learned so much of his language? Furthermore, what the hell did that _mean_?

Sten must have felt my gaze on him, because he looked down at me and scowled. Well that was as much of an invitation for conversation as I was going to get out of him, so why not? "Well I'm glad she'll talk to _someone_," I said, "I don't suppose you have any advice on how to get her to talk to the rest of us?"

His scowl deepened, "She will speak when she is ready," he snapped.

"Yes well, _you_ tell that to Wynne and Leliana when they start harping on me to talk to her," I muttered, "Not that I think they'll listen."

"_Parshaara_. A wound needs to stop bleeding before it can be dressed."

"What does that _mean_?" I wheedled, hoping for _any _insight into the situation, and willing to brave his creepy glare to get it.

Oh he was angry now, but I think he realized that I wasn't just going to let him walk away. "It means," he snapped, "that she needs _time_, not an over-bearing _kabethari_ wailing at her to lead them!"

A realization struck me then. Sten really _did_ love her, to stand here and continue this conversation with me... not like, love her _romantically_ or anything, but like family. Normally when we said things he considered stupid, he found a way to shut us up or he just didn't answer. He was forcing himself to talk to me for her sake, even though he considered it pointless, and me too stupid to understand. Was it possible to be annoyed, touched, and ashamed all at the same time? I wasn't sure, but it seemed like I was trying to accomplish it nonetheless. "What's a 'kabathaari'?" Alright, maybe he was _right_ to think I was at least a _little_ stupid.

"_Kabethari_," he corrected me, "It means 'simple person'." I seemed to have reached the limit of his patience, because he stalked off after delivering that information.

I sighed in defeat and headed over to the fire, making sure to keep Oghren downwind of me. He was scowling blackly as he tried to refill his mug from what was clearly an empty keg. "Greedy Stone-cursed nug-licker!" he swore angrily, "Th'Warden drank all my ale!" I would've had a hard time believing that, if I hadn't smelled all the alcohol on her when she walked by. "Luckily I came prepared, heh, heh," he pulled out a flask and used it to fill his mug, "Come to Oghren, my lovely..." it was downright obscene watching him drink the liquor. Right. I was going to have nightmares.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Alright, I had a plan. I wasn't sure if it was a _good _plan, but it was _something_. We'd taken to setting two person watches around camp, so we couldn't be ambushed like we were when those shrieks attacked. Liftrasa had stated, too flatly to be argued with, that she was going to stand her watch with Rurik... since he actually _couldn't_ try to talk to her. As it turned out that worked out pretty well for me, since the dog wasn't going to interrupt or inject his own thoughts into the matter... probably... I hoped... he _was_ kind of opinionated and lippy...

In any event, I waited until I was sure everyone else was asleep, or in Shale's case was far enough away to not notice, that way they couldn't mess up my plan. I know I've mentioned it before, but I'm not exactly what you'd call a 'strategist', so I was more than a little worried that this wouldn't work, but it was the best I could come up with. Maker save us all.

I got up quietly, and picked up my blanket. She was sitting far away from the fire so the light wouldn't ruin her night vision, and I knew she was cold... she usually was anyway, considering she came from _lava_... oops, I meant _magma_. I walked up behind her as quietly as I could, glad that she was facing the perimeter of the camp rather than its center, and dropped the blanket around her shoulders. She jumped slightly, which told me she'd been paying as much attention to her surroundings as Sten paid to people's feelings. She looked up to see who had done it, and then quickly looked away, not bothering to say anything. She was sitting on a rock, so I couldn't really sit beside her, so I sat on the ground, drawing a leg up and resting my arm on it. It was... hard to figure out where to start. I'd had this whole speech planned out in my head, but now that it was time to deliver it, I couldn't remember it. The silence stretched between us, growing tauter than one of Leliana's lute strings, but I just couldn't think of how to break it. In the end, she did it for me.

"You should get some sleep," she murmured almost too quietly to hear, her voice still devoid of inflection, "The hardest part is still ahead."

"You mean there's something _worse_ than running all over Ferelden, and solving everyone's problems?" _Damn it_! That was _not_ what I meant to say!

She nodded, "Politics... and after those, defeating the archdemon will seem easy." There _should_ have been amusement in those words, and a chuckle following them, but there wasn't. Even _Shale_ had more personality in its voice when it spoke.

"Right..." since it looked like I'd missed the perfect chance, I figured this might be the best time to just jump into it with both feet. "Look, I know that none of the others would _ever_ appoint me to speak for them... Well, I mean Wynne might, but that's more like her telling me what I should be doing, than her having me express an opinion for her..." Off to a great start already I saw, "The point I'm trying to make is that even though no one says it out loud, I _know_ that we're all grateful for having you in our lives..." I looked up at her, and even given our different elevations, I didn't have to look up very far, "You've helped all of us, and I don't just mean in the obvious ways where you _actually_ went out and did something. You've helped us just by being you... wonderful, patient, caring you." That sounded horribly cheesy, so I plunged on, hoping to redeem myself, "You make us all feel... special. You make us think about things from different perspectives, and keep us from flying off the handle and doing stupid things. When we're upset about something, you talk to us until we can bear it, and dull the edge of whatever we're feeling so we can think clearly. You help us come to terms with things we never thought we'd possibly be able to cope with, even if that means going out of your way to travel to the other side of the country to hunt down a person, or a sword, or even just a mirror to do it. I... can't even begin to _think_ of how to list all of the things you've done for us, and the ways you've helped us, there are just too many, from the tiniest of things like talking to Leliana about shoes, to spelunking in the Deep Roads to find out who Shale was before being turned into a golem. Just being around you makes all of us better people, I really believe that." She had turned to look at me somewhere in the middle of that wandering rant, but I couldn't hold a gaze that looked so heartbroken, and dropped my attention to the ground. Clearly my plan was a failure. "Of course, since you're so giving and selfless, it makes us forget that you're a person too... and the only comfort and consideration you've gotten from anyone has been Wynne telling you to buck up, and be a good little Grey Warden..." I thought about that and quickly added, "no pun intended... and Leliana complimenting your hair. So... I just wanted to say on behalf of everyone, thank you... and we're all here for you when you're ready to talk... because we love you, even if we all express it in different ways." I got to my feet, keeping my gaze on the ground, too scared to look at her and see what expression she wore. Good job Alistair, well played... you suck.

I started to walk away, but stopped when I felt a light touch on my hip. I steeled myself and looked down at her upturned face. It hurt to see the tears in her eyes shimmering in the moonlight. "Thank you," she said soft as a sigh, a number of those tears sliding down her cheeks, "I'm sorry..."

"For what?" I asked, and quickly knelt down beside her, so I could take her face in my hands, the fear of failing her evaporating at the sudden surge of determination to make her see how important she was. "You've done nothing you should be sorry for," I brushed my thumbs over her cheekbones, wiping her tears away, "I know I said before that I understand, but... right now I don't. This is something _I've_ never had to face, and I imagine the only person that would is Oghren, if you could get him to dry out long enough to talk. That doesn't change the fact that I'm here for you... everyone is, really. I know we're a motley crew of cast offs, but there isn't one of us that wouldn't jump between you and danger... and there isn't one of us that wouldn't take all your pain away and suffer it ourselves in your stead." Following some inner prompt, I leaned forward and brushed a light kiss over her forehead before sitting back on my calves, "If there's ever anything you need of us, all you have to do is let us know... even if we protest, we'll do it. Because you're you, and you're better than the lot of us combined."

"Don't say that," she protested instantly, "I'm not..." she shook slightly, trying not to sob openly, "really I'm not."

"You are," I insisted, and went out on a limb, if only because I was sure she wouldn't ever mention it, "you can ask anyone here, and they'll agree."

"You should listen to him, my Warden," I _forced _myself not to jump a mile at the sound of Zevran's voice, and I only succeeded in being still, because I was holding Liftrasa's face in my hands, and I didn't want to hurt her, "He speaks truly."

"He really does," and that would be Leliana... I _hated _rogues and their sneaky... powers... "You are more important to me than Marjolaine ever was. You've been more to me than I can ever properly express. You're like the sister I never had, and always dreamed about. Alistair is right to thank you for us and convey our love, we should've done it a long time again."

"You showed me mercy when you had no reason to," Zevran picked up the thread of conversation, "You've accepted me despite my... occasionally questionable actions, and you've even gone out of your way to make me feel less homesick, and more welcome, all while asking nothing in return. It is... a very strange thing to me, but I've certainly enjoyed the novel experience. I am no wordsmith like our dear Leliana, but I thank you from the very bottom of my arguably black heart, and wanted to let you know that if you ever have need of me, I will always come running when you call."

Well, _I_ for one was shocked... Not really by Leliana's confession, but Zevran's kind of left me staring mutely in surprise. My attention was quickly brought back to Liftrasa when the dam finally broke, and she started sobbing openly, lifting her hands to cover her face. I quickly wrapped my arms around her, and shot an awkward look up the others, unsure of what to do or say.

"Take her to bed," Leliana said gently, "Zevran and I have next watch anyway, and we're already up. Standing double watch won't hurt either of us."

I expected the assassin to make some comment about needing 'beauty sleep' or make a lewd suggestion, but he simply nodded, "Good night, my Warden, I hope your sleep is restful."

My surprised gratitude must have been clearly written across my face, because they both gave me faint smiles, before heading off to opposite sides of the camp to take up their positions. I quickly shifted my grip and lifted Liftrasa in my arms so I could carry her back to my tent. She didn't fight me at all, she just wrapped her arms around me and buried her face in my neck.

She stayed that way until she fell asleep, clinging to me like I was the last solid thing in the world, and crying until exhaustion finally overcame the heartache. On a purely selfish level, I was glad dwarves didn't dream on their own... because it meant she was likely to get _some_ form of peace for a while at least.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: <strong>What the Warden said to Sten is part of the qunari prayer for the dead. It translates to, "_Struggle is an illusion. The tide rises, the tide falls, but the sea is changeless._" I know it doesn't come through well, because Alistair would be clueless, but **she** was actually comforting **Sten**, essentially letting him know that her mourning phase would pass, like the tide, and she'd still be who she was, so he shouldn't be upset or worried about her.


End file.
